That is what this Humming-bird is like on the throat. Underneath the throat, on the breast, he becomes green again, not the dark velvet green of the back, but a still more glorious green, gleaming and brilliant, but soft and rich at the same time. It is a green that changes, too--changes almost into blue. I will tell you how that is. Once this green--this wonderful, lovely green--did not think itself lovely enough (which was funny), so it said to the blue of the violet and the turquoise and the amethyst and the sapphire: "Come and make part of me, but I must be the greater part." "That is not fair," cried the blues of all those lovely things; "we will come, since you have invited us, but we intend to have the upper hand." "Come then," said the green, "and let us fight for the mastery. Whichever wins, the other will be improved by it. We will struggle together, and we will see which is the strongest." So they came, those blues of wonder, from the violet, the turquoise, the sapphire, and the amethyst--yes, and from the sky, the stars, and the sea as well--and they fell in a glory on that glorious green that had been there before them, and fought with it to possess the breast of that Humming-bird. And they are fighting to possess it now. They gleam and flash and sparkle and glow, and try to out-glory each other; but I think that that wonderful green is the strongest, although he has such a lot of blues to fight against. But stronger than any and than all of them is the sun on that Humming-bird's gorget, that gorget of gold and topaz, and copper and bronze, and silver and gleaming white. That is what that Humming-bird is like, and that is how he got some of his wonderful colours; so, at least, the Indians say, only some of them say that it was the blues who were there first, and asked the green to come. But always, in history, you will find that there are different opinions about the same thing. People are not _all_ agreed, even about the battle of Waterloo.